Justice?
by Linkz1
Summary: Harvey Dent had just suffered his horrific injuries.  How has he dealt with it?  What will he do next?  Read and review!


Harvey Dent was reclined in an easy chair in what remained of his suburban residence. The night before he had set fire to half of it to better reflect his inner duality. In one hand that looked immaculate was a scotch, in the other hand, which looked horrific and scarred, was a Colt .45. He watched the television as GNN reported on the happenings of the night before. There were car crashes, petty robberies and then a story came on that hit him like a freight train. He stared at the television with a blank expression as they reported:

"_Yesterday, District Attorney, Harvey Dent was involved in a horrible accident at the trial of reputed mobster, Salvatore Maroni. Assistant District Attorney Fields can be seen in this court room video throwing sulfuric acid into the face of Harvey Dent._

"_Dent was taken to Gotham Memorial Hospital not long after. Reports indicate that he refused treatment and left in the middle of the night. To make this story all the more interesting, there was a fire reported at the Dent residence around one o'clock this morning. Gotham City policy currently have no leads, but there are reports that this was an attempted arson by Salvatore Maroni's men. GNN will keep you updated with the details._

"_And in sports..."_

Harvey gripped his glass hard, cracking it. The scotch began to seep out onto his hands as he continued to glare at the television. The reports were so cold. So heartless. It was as if they didn't care what happened to him, just as long as they got good ratings out of it. How could they understand the pain he had felt? How could they understand what happened. He looked over to his side table, his lucky two-headed coin was laying there. He picked it up and looked at it. What good this thing brought me, he thought as he flipped it through his fingers nimbly. This coin has no luck left in it at all. He could feel tears beginning to sting the back of his eyes. There was no one, _no one_ that could understand what he was feeling.

He looked at the clock on the wall, soot stained it making it difficult to read the time. It was about six in the morning. Guess it's time to do something with myself, he thought, as he climbed out of the easy chair and walked into the kitchen. He still clutched the coin in his hand, and placed the gun down on the counter as he stared at the coin one more time. Two heads, he thought, this coin is a reflection of who I was. Who I used to be, and now, he looked at his reflection in the kitchen window, disgusted at what he saw. Half of his face was perfect and the other half was completely disfigured and scarred. His eye was nearly completely exposed in its socket, and part of the skin on his jaw actually had melted away. This coin, he thought, this needs to be a reflection of who I am now.

Walking across the kitchen, he grabbed a knife out of the cutlery set on the counter. Bringing it down onto the coin he began to carve an "X" through one of the faces on it. "This," he said aloud, "will show them who I really am."

Suddenly there was another voice, a darker, grittier voice than his own, yet it was strangely familiar, "You're right Harvey. You're no longer the District Attorney of Gotham City."

"Who? Who are you?"

The harsh voice continued, "I'm someone who is all too familiar to you. You've known me since you were a child. Remember when you broke Timothy Dawson's arm in third grade?"

Harvey nodded, "I do. He was threatening to cut off Alicia's hair with a knife. What was I supposed to do?"

"You did what had to be done, Harvey. The person who broke his arm...that was _me!_"

Harvey gasped, he didn't know what to think. There was someone, something, deep down inside him that he been repressing for years. He remembered back to many long hours with his therapist as a teenager as he worked on keeping his darker side where it belonged. He knew then that if he had ever let it out, the results could be disastrous. It nearly came out when he was in law school, one night he had been on a date and a group of guys came up to give him a hard time. Rather than continue on and ignore them, he instead opted to fight them all. He shivered as he remembered beating one of them so much he slipped into a coma. His date had ran in horror at what he did. Who could blame her, he thought. That's a side I don't want to come out.

"I can't let you come out. Not now. Not after this."

The voice laughed at him, mocking him, "Do you really have a choice, Harvey? You've already started down the path of letting me come back. Remember how you treated Maroni during questioning behind closed doors?"

Harvey again nodded. He recalled how he beat him with the butt of his gun to get him to confess to several crimes. It was unconventional, and more than that, it was illegal. He knew that he had let his passions get the best of him, and he knew it was conduct unbecoming of the White Knight of Gotham City. But no one could know. No one was there but him and Maroni. And why would anyone believe Maroni if he said anything?

He said, "What does that have to do with you?"

"Everything," the voice chimed, "you have let me back into your life in a big way. Your passion and enthusiasm for justice is what let me back in. And now, I'm here to stay."

He glared at his reflection in the mirror, at the scarred half of his face. He knew it was mocking him, goading him into doing things he didn't want to do. But then again, how could he go back to being the District Attorney looking like this? What would Gotham City think of its White Knight who was half burned by acid and was more of monster than the men he would put to trial? The pain from the burns was immeasurable. He was still reeling from what happened, and now his split personality threatened to take him into a realm of being he wasn't ready for. Yet, he considered to himself, I'm already partway there. I've indulged my dark side too much recently.

"There you go," the harsh voice again said, "you're beginning to see it my way. It's not so bad once you give in to it."

Harvey's voice trembled, "I-I guess I could do it. It's not like Gotham City needs someone who looks like me. I've already started on the path."

"Exactly! You have done things that most would argue are illegal as a District Attorney. Not to mention setting half of your house on fire and scarring your coin. Our coin."

Harvey nodded, "Yes."

"You have no choice, Harvey. I'm here to stay and you just have to accept it. People already respect you. I'll help them fear you. They'll fear us!"

Harvey again looked at his reflection as he spoke, "We still need to be fair. People need the right to due process."

"Screw due process," the voice hissed out, "the coin. Chance. That is due process. That is fair. It's unbiased, and just."

Harvey nodded in agreement. He understood what the voice was telling him. The coin would now be his judge, jury and executioner. There was nothing more liberating than knowing that his coin would make decisions for him, it would be just like court. He flipped the coin in the air. Heads. He flipped it again. Heads. One more time. Tails. He smiled gravely. Tails would be the worst possible result for anyone. It could lead to their torture or death, he thought. Suddenly he felt his heart racing. What was he thinking? To commit murder? Who was he? What was he becoming?

"This coin," he said, "this coin will decide it all, right?"

The voice affirmed, "It will. It will tell you what sort of justice needs to be served. Our coin will be our most important tool in our fight against the wrongs that have been done to us."

He rubbed his hair and said, "What are we going to do now then?"

"Fields."

Harvey nodded gravely. He knew what needed to be done. Assistant District Attorney Fields needed to be dealt with and justice needed to be served. There was no way around it, he walked over to the counter and picked up his gun. Making his way through his house he clicked off the television, and gave his home one last look before he left.

**LATER**

Fields was sitting in his penthouse apartment in Gotham City. Looking down at the city below. He grinned as he thought about what he had done yesterday. Despite the attack, and being apprehended by the police, he had been sprung from jail by Salvatore Maroni's men. They took care of his bail and delivered his substantial payment for his services. Maroni's plan was perfect and could not have been executed any better than it had been. Those ants down there, he thought, they have no idea who really runs this city. Pretty soon, it'll be Maroni, and those who aren't on his side will be dealt with.

He walked over to his couch and sat down. The money was piled up on bundles on his coffee table. He picked up one of the bundles and began counting. Shaking his head as he couldn't believe how much he had been given for such a simple job. It was as if Maroni thought it couldn't be done! Two million dollars, he thought as he grabbed another bundle and counted. All I had to do was throw acid at that prick, he laughed as he picked up another bundle and counted.

A knock on his door broke him out of his joy. Who the hell would be here at this time of day? He wasn't expecting any of Maroni's men until later that afternoon to discuss the next actions he was going to take as he helped Maroni gain control of Gotham. He got up and went to the door. He looked through the peep hole at who was there, but he could see anything, it was dark in the hallway. At least it looked dark. Maybe it's the building superintendent, he thought, as he fumbled with the locks on the door.

Before he could even turn the knob, the door flung open, causing him to back away fast. The man stood there in the doorway, dressed in a suit that had burn marks and soot on it. A fedora shadowed his face, and he held a gleaming pistol in one hand and a coin in the other. "Who? Who the hell are you?"

"Oh, I think you know us pretty well, Fields," the intruder said, as he took the hat off.

Fields gasped as he saw what was left of Harvey Dent. How had he survived, he thought, why wasn't he still at the hospital? "Har-Harvey! It's great to see you alive!"

Harvey sneered and shoved the man down onto the floor, "Don't give me that shit! You did this to us!" He cried as he pointed at his scarred face. Fields flinched as he looked upon him. He couldn't believe how severe the injuries were, or that Harvey could have survived without medical treatment. Harvey reached behind him and slammed the door shut, he then locked it. Turning back towards Fields, he grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and threw him on the couch. Fields continued looking at Harvey in amazement as he paced back and forth.

Harvey said, "Now that we have him, what are we going to do?"

He turned around, walking the opposite direction, only the scarred half of his face was visible to Fields now, "What do you think we should do with someone like this? We need to bring him to justice."

"But we need to be fair," Harvey said in response to his darker side.

"You have the coin, that's how we'll be fair to him. Besides, was it fair of him to throw acid at us when we were defenseless?"

Harvey nodded and looked down at Fields, "Your trial is about to begin."

He held up his coin and showed him the clean side, "You live."

He flipped the coin over, showing a large carved "X" over the head, Fields' mouth had now dropped open, he couldn't believe what was happening. What is going on he thought? "You die," Harvey's voice was gravely and dark as he informed him of what may happen.

"Harvey," Fields said, "come on. Maybe we can work something out. I'll give you fifty percent of what Maroni gave me! I'll never bother you again! If you let me go, I can put in a good word for you with Maroni!"

Harvey stared at him, a grave look on his face. He just doesn't get it, he thought, as he flipped the coin. It landed on the coffee table with a thud. Heads. Fields breathed a sigh of relief. "So you'll let me go then?"

Harvey picked the coin back up as he continued to stare him down. He said coldly, "Best two out of three."

The coin flipped into the air again, the light glinting off of it as it landed on the coffee table again. Tails. Fields could feel his heart begin to race, how could this be happening to him? He had succeeded, where was the protection he was supposed to have from Maroni's men? "Come on Harvey, just forget about me! It was nothing personal! It was business! I know how I could make you rich! Give me a break!"

He reached down again and picked up the coin. "You've already been given a break. It's time to let the coin decide what your fate is going to be."

The coined flipped up into the air again. Fields watched in horror as it flipped again and again. He held his breath as it landed on the coffee table. His eyes widened when saw it had landed tails up. He looked up at Harvey and pleaded, "Please! Harvey, this isn't justice! You want me brought to justice? Call the police. Call them now. Tell them you've found me. Tell them I've given up and will turn state's evidence against Maroni! Tell them anything! Just please don't kill me!"

He began to whimper as Harvey leveled the pistol at his head, placing it against the man's temple. Fields shook like a leaf as he cried, the feel of the cold steel was too much. This couldn't be happening to him, how did this happen? Harvey said coldly, with that harshness to his voice, "You should have thought of the consequences of your actions."

With that, he pulled the trigger. Blood spurted out of Fields' head as he fell over limp, dead. Harvey said, "Was that justice?"

The voice replied to him, "That was more than justice Harvey, that was righteous!"

He nodded as he looked down at Fields, "He got what he deserved didn't he? We brought him the kind of justice the courts would never grant."

"Yes we did," the voice replied cold, "we are now the personification of justice. We are now, Two-Faces of justice."

Harvey walked out of the apartment. As he left he looked back at what he had done, knowing full well he was no longer Harvey Dent, Gotham City District Attorney. He was now Two-Face, a man who would deal out justice to the unjust. His work was only just beginning.

**THE END**


End file.
